Swale Archives - Remote London https://www.remotelondon.com/tag/swale/ Wild spaces & solitude on the edges of London Mon, 28 Aug 2023 20:51:08 +0000 en-GB hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.1 https://www.remotelondon.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/Greater-London-outline-favicon.png Swale Archives - Remote London https://www.remotelondon.com/tag/swale/ 32 32 179982959 From the Swale to Bedlams Bottom, a Medway Marshes walk https://www.remotelondon.com/swale-bedlams-bottom-medway-walk/ Sat, 19 Aug 2023 15:50:43 +0000 https://www.remotelondon.com/?p=10994 A circular walk in the Medway Marshes, from the Sheppey Crossing to the wrecks at Bedlams Bottom, then back to the Swale.

The post From the Swale to Bedlams Bottom, a Medway Marshes walk appeared first on Remote London.

]]>

This walk starts where the King’s Ferry once shuttled between the Isle of Sheppey and the Kentish mainland. Today, the modern Sheppey Crossing sweeps high overhead, dwarfing the older Kingsferry Bridge, which still carries rail and road. Up until 1860, no bridges stood here, and ferries were the only way to cross the Swale.

Three hundred years ago, the ferry keeper had “a Priviledge to drudge for Oysters” here. It must have been peaceful. Now, jet skiers tear the water and shatter the peace, tracking endlessly back and forth, circling and going nowhere.

There’s room to park here, and Swale station has somehow survived. A single platform is served by trains from Sittingbourne.

A woman in winter clothing walking along an embankment path, between two tall navigational markers on poles, for shipping on the Swale

The Saxon Shore Way

The Saxon Shore Way follows the Swale, and we head north-west, treading the cropped grass of the sea wall. Ferry Marshes lie inland; drainage channels in the wet pasture reflecting the winter sky. Robust horses graze to a backdrop of pylons and distant industrial stacks.

Horses grazing in flooded fields, with pylons and tall industrial stacks in the background, some billowing steam

Away from the jet skis this is a peaceful, if exposed landscape. Few trees grow here. In the far distance, massive tankers cruise the deep-water channels of the Medway, and the white stacks* of Grain Power Station catch the eye.

At Chetney Marshes the path cuts inland, rendering further access along the sea wall untenable. If we could continue, we’d find ourselves within a stone’s throw of Deadmans Island. This low-lying saltmarsh was used to bury the numerous dead of prison ships and isolation hulks. Erosion has opened the old graves and scattered nameless human bones along the foreshore.

Pylons stretch to the horizon, across a flat landscape. In the distance, a large container ship is proceeding along the unseen Medway, with the Isle of Grain in the far distance.

Following the path below a line of pylons, a large, circular earthwork can be seen on the left. Perhaps once used to shelter livestock, its ancient purpose is no longer clear.

The landscape is flat but wild. A few scrubby bushes have managed to set root in the shelter of ditches; others cling to the frame of an old wind pump.

Meeting the angriest man in Kent

The path crosses a lane, marked as a bridleway on OS Maps, which leads to a remote cluster of modern barn buildings and grain silos. The OS Maps show the path continuing, as far as a lost farmstead known as New Chetney. But the way is blocked, with a plethora of keep out signs. Up close the place looked sinister, with a dead rabbit smeared into black, muddy tyre tracks.

Heading back to the path, we noticed a pick-up truck approaching. The driver swung his vehicle over to block our way and we got to meet the angriest man in Kent. I’ve never heard the f-bomb dropped so frequently, as he harangued us for trespassing on his private lane. He wasn’t interesting in listening, or reasoning, or explaining why a public right of way was now his and his only.

Others have written that this landscape has a darkness, a threatening vibe, but I’d never felt it before. I’ve felt it now. This man was consumed with anger, diseased with rage. It wasn’t a pleasant encounter.

I caught up with my companion, who’d wisely walked away from the abuse while I’d tried to reason. Ahead, another inlet of the Medway beckoned, the low sun glittering across the golden, tidal mud.

A woman, dressed in winter clothing, scans mudflats with binoculars.

Stangate Creek and HMS Éclair

Chetney Hill, to the right, is a circular half-island, connected to the mainland by a narrow neck of land. In 1801 this was chosen to be the site for a quarantine station, although the station seems to have only been partially built. Based on the ‘lazarettos’ of the Mediterranean trading ports, this would have been a place where sailors and passengers arriving in the Medway could be isolated, during times of epidemic disease.

Ships which did arrive carrying disease were often forced to anchor in the sheltered creeks. HMS Éclair arrived here in 1845, its crew decimated by yellow fever, after a torturous return journey from West Africa. Having been sent out to suppress the Sierra Leone slave trade (recently abolished in Britain) the Éclair limped back to Portsmouth. However, the authorities took one look at the diseased vessel and told it to continue to the Medway, and Stangate Creek.

The sick were removed to other ships for care, while the survivors remained on board. Subsequently, the white members of the crew were also relocated, leaving the Kroomen (West African crew members) on board.

The evening sun is very low in a clear winter sky, and is reflected in a wide, flat landscape of mudflats and water.

Sidney Bernard and his solitary grave

More than half of the ship’s crew had already died on the journey that brought the Éclair from West Africa to this remote spot on the Kent coast, including the captain, the surgeon and the assistant surgeon. On route, the stricken vessel had been refused permission to land at the island of Madeira, but Sidney Bernard, the 27-year-old assistant surgeon on HMS Rolla, offered his services and was appointed surgeon to the Éclair.

At Stangate Creek, five more crew died, followed by Sidney Bernard. His solitary grave is sited on Burntwick Island, at the mouth of the creek. At the time, it wasn’t understood that yellow fever isn’t contagious but is caused by a virus, transmitted by mosquito bites. It’s likely that infectious mosquitos were still breeding in the warm, damp bowels of the steam-driven Éclair, unnoticed, but deadly.

At the time, it wasn’t unusual for ocean-travelling ships to lose half their crews to disease, but Sidney Bernard’s death drew attention to these losses, and to the brutal quarantine treatment which could await those who survived.

Martyred in the British press, the death of Bernard helped, in part, to focus attention on the plight of the navy and the conditions endured by naval crews. This in turn led to transformative public health reforms, sowing seeds for today’s National Health Service.

Bedlams Bottom

Continuing along the creek, one reaches Bedlams Bottom, where a graveyard of abandoned vessels lies along the coastal path. Twenty-five hulks have been recorded, although some have now decayed beyond recognition, or are lost below the mud. With the winter’s sun low on the horizon, we didn’t linger long, but followed the footpath to the lane at Raspberry Hill, and then across fields to Sheppey Way.

An old, disused and decrepit wooden boat lies at an angle on the Medway mudflats.

At Sheppey Way, the path was (at the time of writing) completely lost in a tangle of undergrowth, so we followed the road until picking up the path alongside. Under a pale moon the route wasn’t always clear, but the sweeping heights of the Sheppey Crossing gave us something to aim for.

A woman walking across a narrow wooden footbridge with dry winter reeds on either side. The moon is bright in a clear sky.

Ridham Dock

Back at the Swale, and in no rush to leave, we followed the coastal path east for about a kilometre, to the mouth of Ridham Dock. The path detours inland here, around the docks, so we headed back to the bridges, and bade our farewell to the moonlit marshes.

A floodlit dock entrance at low tide, with two tall cranes. The floodlight is reflected in the water.
Boats rest tilting on mudflats at low tide, under a clear, moonlit sky. The moon is reflected in the mud and distant water. Pylons in the distance look like tall masts.

Once, we might have slaked our thirst at the Lord Nelson, overlooking the approach to the ferry crossing. Known locally as the First and Last, and dating back to at least 1841, the pub was apparently swept away by the construction of the first bridge, the Kingsferry, in 1959. No sign remains, of either the pub or of the large, second world war pillbox which protected the road and rail crossings here.

A black and white photograph of a pub standing alone beside a lane. There is a wooden picket fence and some men and boys with bicycles. The words 'Style & Winch Ales' are written in large letters on the side of the pub.

More information

My thanks to Kirsten D for joining me on this walk, undertaken in January 2022. We used a car for this one. Swale station is served by an hourly train service, including weekends.

* One of the three stacks collapsed during Storm Eunice in February 2022.

The post From the Swale to Bedlams Bottom, a Medway Marshes walk appeared first on Remote London.

]]> 10994 Exploring Milton Creek, from Sittingbourne to the Swale https://www.remotelondon.com/milton-creek-sittingbourne-to-the-swale/ Wed, 01 Dec 2021 14:14:12 +0000 https://www.remotelondon.com/?p=7744 Once busy with barges, Milton Creek is now a forgotten backwater, a saltmarsh landscape with great views and an industrial backdrop.

The post Exploring Milton Creek, from Sittingbourne to the Swale appeared first on Remote London.

]]>

Milton Creek winds from the small, industrial town of Sittingbourne towards the Swale and the Thames Estuary. Once busy with barges, the creek is now a forgotten backwater, a saltmarsh landscape with, in places, an industrial backdrop.

The truncated head of Milton Creek can be glimpsed from The Mill Skatepark in Sittingbourne, but access is poor. This was once a remote, rural landscape, dominated by corn mills. Now the air is tainted by junk food and exhaust fumes. Passing a Domino’s and Topps Tiles, the raised line of a shabby, low viaduct leads the way on slanting legs of re-enforced concrete.

Seemingly derelict and disused, this stilted railway ran between the lost Sittingbourne Paper Mill and Ridham Dock on the Swale. The line is surprisingly still in use, maintained by the volunteer run Sittingbourne & Kemsley Light Railway.

Below the Sittingbourne & Kemsley Light Railway. Concrete pillars stretch to the distance.

Milton Creek, the head and the mouth

A public footpath leads off Gas Road towards the creek, passing industrial units and a lorry park. The path meets the creek at an old wharf, where creative signage points towards the head and the mouth of the creek.

The route circumnavigates a large lake, a tenuous track between the creek and the flooded remnants of what was perhaps a brick field or quarry. Across the channel, the snarl and buzz of Go-Carts drifts over the riverwall and the carcass of an old barge.

Our waterways have long been a dumping ground for our liquid wastes, which is why sewage treatment works dot our coastline and rivers. Alongside Milton Creek, one such works sits close to the river. Gulls float in slow, clockwise circles on the circulating waters of the settling tanks. There’s a bit of a whiff, but nothing unbearable.

A narrow raised footpath with water on both sides. In the distance a large pile of sand or soil, and distant industry.
A wide channel with shallow, submerged saltmarsh.

Marsh and landfill

An extensive area of saltmarsh leads to the Swale Way road bridge. Burrowing rabbits reveal the dumped landfill used to reclaim what was once Church Marshes. Bottles, clinker and crockery spill towards the creek, a forgotten history of trash below the path.

Just beyond the bridge, a renovated yet empty wharf once served the nearby Burley Brickworks, and later the Bowater Paper Mill (now Kemsley Paper Mill). Nothing remains except for a blackened hulk which lies in the mud, hidden with every high tide. Red-billed oystercatcher patrol the mudbanks, occasionally expressing themselves with shrill, piping calls.

The path carries on past wild saltmarsh and below towering pylons, towards distant, gleaming industrial chimneys. On a high tide this is a flooded landscape, with salt-tolerant plants emerging from the brine.

A large pylon stands on the horizon, across a wide vegetated waterway, which could be mistaken for a flooded field
Flooded saltmarsh reflects the sky and distant, tall industrial chimneys

Industrial rubble and kingfishers

Passing the paper works, a circular cut in the concrete wharf reveals what is probably the footprint of a derrick which once stood here, unloading Thames barges. A little further on, a large rusting pipe plunges into the creek, an exhausted outflow for the old paper works. Here I saw a kingfisher, an emerald flash of light fleeing my intrusion.

A rough circle in concrete next to the creek, with several thick pins of metal which have been cut off.
A large, rusting red pipe dips into dark blue water.

This is an area of heavy landfill. Kemsley Marshes have mostly been lost to the expanding paper mill or dumped upon. Broken concrete tumbles into the creek, and in places walking can be tricky. Beyond the paper mill, the Kemsley combined heat and power facility burns waste to produce energy and power. The massive bulk of the building squats low behind landscaped landfill.

At the mouth of Milton Creek, where the channel joins the Swale, the remains of the paper mill’s small pumphouse and jetty sit offshore. Cut adrift from the mainland, the barren concrete structure now provides temporary respite for roosting gulls.

Grinders and gypsum

Around the corner a modern industrial conveyor arches across the path and out to a jetty. The way is almost blocked by what appear to be WW2 anti-tank blocks. These are actually huge rollers from the paper mill, once used to crush and grind logs to produce wood pulp. The jetty isn’t used by the paper mill but by Knauf, to deliver Spanish gypsum to their nearby factory, which produces building materials such as plasterboard.

Four large 'rollers' are placed across the path to prevent access by motorbikes and cars. They are hollow and wild grasses grow tall from the centre of each roller.
More paper mill rollers are placed nearby. Each is more than a metre high, and about one and a half metres wide.

Another sewage treatment works discharges into the creek here. At high tide the piped, turbulent flow agitates and stirs the creek waters. Thankfully the outflow was odourless, the water apparently clean, returning to the environment from which it came.

A jetty leads from the right into the channel. At the end, two large white cranes stand silent. By each crane there is a large white silo, into which gypsum would be dumped, then transported back along the jetty.

Grovehurst Dock

The sewage treatment plant stands roughly where a large, basic dock once cut into Kemsley Marshes. Grovehurst Dock was excavated in the 1860’s to serve the inland Grovehurst Brick and Tile Works. The dock later served Kemsley Paper Mill, as an import dock for wood pulp. The dock is visible on maps until 1947, but was probably lost during river wall refortification, following the disastrous North Sea flood of 1953. A deep treatment pool now occupies part of the former dock.

The Isle of Sheppey lies across the Swale, the shoreline bordering the fantastic Elmley Nature Reserve. You may make out the remains of a simple dock on the far shore, one of the last traces of the lost Elmley village and its small cement and brick works. I could make out an excavator by the dock, and a barge moored offshore.

I visited the following week and found the owners are dredging and repairing the lock, the spoil a glutinous pile of mud, brick and old timber, perhaps a former barge. One barge remains, an unnamed hulk at the head of the dock, the broken body now weighted under a cargo of mud and bound by cord-grass.

A series of wooden posts head out across the water.
Two parallel timber gantries lead out into the Swale. Unmarked on old maps, their purpose unknown.
Looking back along a then path of vegetated rubble, with water on both sides. In the far background a large, square white factory building stands with a towering white chimney. The sky is blue.
Nearby, an old wooden breakwater has been re-enforced with rubble and debris to form a basic harbour.

Ridham Dock

The main path now cuts around Ridham Dock towards the Sheppey Crossing. However, another dead-end path heads north, to the mouth of the dock. Astride this seawall, the extent of the dock and associated works is apparent, covering a large chunk of Ridham Marsh. A wide belt of saltmarsh still thrives along the edge of the Swale, punctuated near the tip by an old slipway and lines of wooden posts.

Ridham Dock was opened in 1919 as a deep water dock, allowing larger ships and cargoes to serve the paper mill at Sittingbourne, and saving the need for barges to navigate Milton Creek’s tidal waters. Goods were carried by tramway, with the dock expanding to meet the demand of the later Kemsley Paper Mill, which it still serves today.

Rows of old wooden posts stick out into the wide channel of the Swale.
A very large expanse of flat ground dotted with large drilling derricks. Industrial buildings in the background.

The path to the mouth of the dock is blocked by a large concrete block, but local anglers have stamped out a rough route towards the deeper water and better fishing. A battered sign leads to a final narrow stretch of dock wall, with a long drop into the dark water below. In the distance, the Sheppey Crossing and Kingsferry Bridge frame the horizon.

A battered, broken sign sticks out over a wide channel of water, from a thick concrete wall. The wall is fenced on the inland side. In the distance a large bridge arches over the channel.

For me, this was as far as I got. I turned and retraced my steps, into an ever-darkening winter night. As the tide crept in across the mudflats and the light fell, winter waders came closer to the path. An occasional bulky curlew stood out among flocks of black-trailed godwit and redshank. Their soothing calls fading as the darkness grew.

A distant tall pylon against a darkening sky of mauve and orange. In the foreground is a wide channel of water and mudflats.
A dark landscape, with a little light left in the sky. On the left, a channel of water reflects a little light. To the right, tall slim trees are silhouetted against the sky. Straight ahead, a low, industrial building seems to watch over the path.

For a shorter one-way walk, continue to Swale railway station, situated where the bridges cross the Swale. Sittingbourne is just a ten minute train ride away from this single line station. At time of writing, trains are hourly at weekends, half-hourly during the week.

Walk undertaken in November 2021

The Medway Swale Estuary Partnership is a not-for profit organisation which works to conserve and promote the estuary’s natural and cultural heritage.

Milton Creek on the map

The post Exploring Milton Creek, from Sittingbourne to the Swale appeared first on Remote London.

]]> 7744 Elmley Cement Works and a lost village on the Isle of Sheppey https://www.remotelondon.com/elmley-cement-works-and-lost-village/ Tue, 04 Aug 2020 17:24:13 +0000 https://www.remotelondon.com/?p=1206 Elmley Island is nestled within the belly of the Isle of Sheppey, an island within an isle. Although no longer a…

The post Elmley Cement Works and a lost village on the Isle of Sheppey appeared first on Remote London.

]]>

Elmley Island is nestled within the belly of the Isle of Sheppey, an island within an isle. Although no longer a true island, Elmley is still a remote and wild spot. Elmley Nature Reserve is well worth a visit, but I was drawn to the remote riverside path. An abandoned wharf was my target, rather than the inland grazing marshes.

I parked my car at the end of Ferry Road, a heavily rutted lane which leads to the old Kingsferry crossing. Now home to landfill and dumping, this was once the principle way on and off the island. A ferry ran here until 1860, when the first bridge was built to the mainland.

A metal gate blocks a dusty road on Elmley Island
Ferry Road leads to this welcoming sight at Kingsferry. There is a public right of way here.

Two bridges now span the channel, a lifting bridge dating from 1959 and the much higher, sweeping Sheppey Crossing, which opened in 2006. The end of the road is gated, but there is public access and you can walk around the gate.

An old sign warns of soft mud on Elmley Island
The path is good, but this is a wet landscape

Following the Swale

A public footpath heads east, following the river wall and the flow of the Swale. Inland, sturdy beef cattle browse the wet grazing marshes, dwarfed below huge pylons. Scraps of saltmarsh and wide mudflats lead down to the Swale, the tideway which separates Sheppey from the mainland.

Cattle grazing on Elmley Island

Pockets of heavy industry line the mainland side. The sound of birdsong is occasionally interrupted by the roar of jet skis, blithely ignoring the eight knots speed limit.

The path cuts around the mouth of the Dray. This channel was once tidal, flowing around Elmley to meet with Windmill Creek, creating a true island.

A muddy creek leads to the Swale, with industry beyond
The former mouth of The Dray. This channel once curved around Elmley Island, meeting Windmill Creek to create a true island

Overhead, an intolerant gull was noisily harassing a larger marsh harrier. The harrier drifted higher over the island, before lazily swooping away towards the mainland.  

A white gull annoying a larger, darker marsh harrier high in the sky, on Elmley Island
Birds of prey, such as this marsh harrier, are often pestered by other birds, who want them off their territory

Elmley Cement Works

The track curves past remnant saltmarsh and comes to the ruins of an old wharf. This was the Elmley Cement Works, also known at the Turkey Cement Works. Little still stands, but for almost fifty years this crumbling wharf supported a small industrial village and a riverside pub called The Globe, with a nearby church and school.

The old wharf at Elmley Cement Works. One side is broken concrete, the other wooden. The dock is full of mud.
The old wharf at Elmley Cement Works. The modern building in the distance is a biomass power plant

Elmley Cement Works operated between 1854 and 1901, apparently starting at a site a short distance to the south, before settling here. The cement was produced using local clay, dug from the surrounding saltmarsh and mudflats. This stretch of the Swale is marked on maps as Clay Reach, an echo of the area’s history. The other vital ingredient, chalk, was shipped in from other Medway wharves.

A short-lived brickworks also operated here, prior to the cement works. Again, the main ingredient would have been the local clay.

Ruins of the Elmley Cement Works
Ruins of the Elmley Cement Works
A large standing wall and pit at Elmley Cement Works
A large standing wall and pit at Elmley Cement Works

The wharf and foundations have been heavily warrened by rabbits, but larger tunnels exist. These are probably ventilation flues, providing an updraft of air to the twelve cement kilns which operated here. The flues extend a long way out into the landscape, mostly hidden below the grass. 

A low brick arched tunnel heads into darkness
Probable ventilation flue at the Elmley Cement Works
Inside the arched flue, with rubble extending into darkness
The flue would have drawn air for the fires in the cement kilns

Ghosts of Elmley Village

There is no obvious sign of the lost Elmley Village, although intriguing foundations dot the surrounding landscape. More than 200 people once lived here, in 30 homes. Glimpses of their lives and deaths are recorded in old newspaper clippings and census information, but today, it is hard to imagine a community living in this remote spot.

A small, battered tree grows from between concrete blocks, in an empty landscape, on Elmley Island
Little evidence of the cement works and Elmley Village remain
Black and white photograph of homely looking cottages, with the Swale in the background. On Elmley Island.
An undated photograph of Seaview Cottages close to the cement works. No trace now remains.

Elmley Village School and St James’s Church

Walking inland towards the ruins of Elmley Village School, I was stopped in my tracks by half-a-dozen yellow wagtails, gracefully chasing insects across the dusty path. They are astonishingly yellow, a bird I’ve never seen before. They are only here for the summer, shining brightly, before overwintering in Africa. Nearby, small groups of cautious linnets were flying low, the males displaying blushes of crimson across their chests. 

The village school is about half a kilometre inland, and are can be seen from the public footpath. The dangerously dilapidated structure is fenced off. The school was built in 1885, after rising class numbers at the nearby church made lessons there impractical. Fifty children once attended classes here, walking this same track.

The ruined Elmley Village School, with a tall chimney, amid a few trees and wildflowers
The derelict Elmley Village School lies just off the track

The church which stood next to the school has completely gone, wiped from the landscape. Incredibly, a church had stood here from roughly 1247, surviving rebuilds, centuries of disuse and fluctuating congregations.

The demise of the cement works proved the final nail in the coffin, and the church had become derelict by the 1950s, used as a cattle barn and for general farm storage. Some of the structure may have been taken to rebuild the river wall, following the infamous North Sea floods of 1953. The final ruins of St James’s Church were demolished in the early 1960s.

Trees grow where Elmley Church once stood
St James's Church stood to the left of the school in this photograph, closer to the river. Nothing visible remains
Sepia photograph showing Elmley Church
Undated photograph showing St James's Church beyond the school building.

Of the 160 burials recorded at the church since 1834, not even a headstone remains. Local resident Derek Faulkner has written extensively about Elmley, and his account of this lost church is worth reading.

Kestrels and hares

Heading back, two kestrel caught my eye, poised on fence posts and overlooking a recently harvested field. Every now and then, one would flick down to the stubble, swooping on small prey. In another field, a long-limbed hare, exposed amid the stubble, took flight towards the horizon.

In the far distance, the Kemsley waste-to-energy facility sits boldly on the horizon, a modern addition to an ancient landscape. 

A large, distant, futuristic-looking, blocky building, with several high chimneys
The Kemsley waste-to-energy facility on the mainland side of the Swale, beyond the remains of the cement works and village

Curious to see the earlier site of the cement works, I followed the shoreline a little way south. I suspect all trace may have been lost to later river wall enforcement, but there are some significant chunks of concrete and brickwork here. Wind-battered, twisting crack willow grows amid the remains.

Crack willow grows alongside a few massive concrete blocks, next to the Swale, on Elmley Island
Crack willow grows alongside a few massive concrete blocks, next to the Swale

Walking back to Kingsferry, small flocks of starlings took to the sky, twisting in formation. The moon rose pale in the east, beyond the pylons. A short walk, but a good one.

The moon rising over Elmley Island, with two huge pylons to the right of the landscape. The sky is pink.
The moon rising over Elmley Island

Public transport

This walk is best accessed by buses, which stop on Sheppey Way, close to the junction with Ferry Road. Walking along Ferry Road to Kingsferry takes about 20 minutes.

Alternatively, trains stop at Swale, and you can walk over the Lift Bridge. A footpath on the left of the road leads down towards the riverbank. However, it is only possible to walk under the Lift Bridge at low tide levels, and the alternative detour inland to Ferry Road is a long one on foot.

Useful information

Derek Faulkner’s local blog:  http://lettersfromsheppey.blogspot.com/2011/08/another-side-of-elmley.html

The Globe pub and Elmley Village http://www.dover-kent.com/2015-project/Globe-Inn-Elmley.html

Elmley Cement Works https://www.cementkilns.co.uk/cement_kiln_elmley.html

Other walks on the Isle of Sheppey https://www.remotelondon.com/?s=sheppey

More pics

Not far from the cement works, this broken wind pump rises above ruined brickwork on Elmley Island
Not far from the cement works, this broken wind pump rises above ruined brickwork.
The wharf’s mud-choked dock contains the skeletal remains of a wooden barge
The wharf’s mud-choked dock contains the skeletal remains of a wooden barge
Parallel grooves in broken concrete, with wildflowers growing in cracks
Grooves show where a travelling crane once moved alongside the dock.
There isn't much standing brickwork at Elmley Cement Works

Maps of Elmley Island

Old map, showing Elmley Island as green.
Bartholomew’s 1904 map shows Elmley Island as a true island. The Inn is marked and a cross marks the location of the church. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland
An 1865 map of Elmley Island
An 1865 map of Elmley shows the cement works, former cement works and church. The school has yet to be built. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland

Position of Elmley Cement Works

The post Elmley Cement Works and a lost village on the Isle of Sheppey appeared first on Remote London.

]]> 1206